A New World

Chapter 3: Reality? - Part 1

A woman and her young son were a blur of panicked motion, a desperate sprint against an unseen terror. They slammed into me, almost sending me sprawling. Before I could even register an apology, a grotesque thing, a crawling demon of nightmare fuel, tackled them both. The boy, no older than seven, rolled across the pavement, scrambling to his feet.

"Mommy!" His screams piercing the air,

The mother, pinned beneath the creature, fought with the ferocity of a cornered animal. Her screams for help ripped through the chaos. My blood roared in my ears, and instinct took over. I ran, a primal surge of protectiveness overriding any semblance of reason.

I slammed into the demon, a clumsy tackle fueled by pure adrenaline. It released the woman with a snarl, and she, without a second glance, scooped up her son and fled, disappearing into the swirling madness. The demon and I rolled across the blood-soaked pavement, a grotesque dance of survival.

I managed to scramble on top, straddling the beast, and the only thing I could think to do was punch. I hammered at its face, a grotesque face of twisted flesh and malevolent eyes. With every blow, instead of pain, the demon just laughed. A high-pitched, hysterical cackle that echoed down the street, chilling me to the bone.

Then, its bloody hands, tipped with claws sharper than any knife, grabbed my arms. With a surge of inhuman strength, it threw me across the street. I landed hard, the air whooshing from my lungs, my body screaming in protest.

Through the ringing in my ears, I saw the demon lunge, not at me, but at its next victim. A businessman in a suit, frozen in terror.

Before I could even scream a warning, a torso landed with a sickening thud in front of me, a geyser of blood and entrails exploding outwards, coating me once again in gore. I was covered, drenched, suffocating in the metallic stench of death. I wiped the guts and blood from my face, my hands trembling uncontrollably.

I sat there, stunned, the world moving in slow motion. The screams, the snarls, the sickening sounds of rending flesh, all seemed distant, muffled. The slaughter, the bloodshed, it wouldn't stop. I stumbled back to my feet, my legs shaky, leaning heavily on a lamppost for support.

"What have I done?" I heard myself whisper, the words barely audible above the cacophony of c*****e.

I took a step, then another, my feet slipping on the slick pavement. I tripped over something, a dismembered body, landing face-first on top of it. All I could do was stare into the corpse's horror-stricken face, the eyes wide and vacant, frozen in a final moment of unimaginable terror.

A wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a cold, creeping fear that settled deep in my soul. I scrambled off the corpse, frantically pushing myself away, running. I didn't know where I was going. I didn't care. All I knew was that I had to run, to escape the horror that had consumed the street.

My foot snagged on something, a disembodied leg, sending me sprawling to the ground once more. I stood, brushing off the clinging pieces of flesh, my stomach churning.

Then, from behind me, came a sound that froze me to the spot. A bone-chilling growl, low and guttural, filled with unimaginable malice. I felt the cold sweat trickle down my face. My breathing became rapid, shallow gasps. A new, profound fear, unlike anything I had ever experienced, sank its claws into my soul.

Slowly, agonizingly, I turned around. And there he was. My five-year-old son, Lucas.

"Hi daddy."

The words were sweet, innocent, utterly at odds with the scene of c*****e surrounding us. Tears, silent and scalding, streamed down my face at the sight of him. My sweet baby boy, miraculously untouched by the horror, as if the car accident had never happened. He was perfect, unharmed.

"Play a game with me daddy?"

He tilted his head, a familiar gesture that used to melt my heart. But now, it sent a shiver of dread down my spine. He pretended to think, tapping his chin with a small, bloodstained finger. A subtle, disturbing smile crept over his lips. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. His eyes, usually bright and full of mischief, were cold, empty.

"Oh, I know!" He chirped, his voice unnaturally high-pitched. "How about we play Cutters? Do you know that game daddy?"

Slowly, deliberately, he stepped towards me. Such evil, such hatred, radiated from him, a tangible force that pushed against me. I backed away, my heart shattering into a million pieces at the sight of him.

"Here, let me show you." He said, his voice dripping with a perverse sweetness.

Then, the transformation began. It was subtle at first, a flicker of something unnatural in his features. Then, it accelerated, becoming grotesque and horrifying. Lucas's face twisted, contorted, the skin blackening, cracking. His innocent features melted away, replaced by a blackened skull with razor-sharp fangs.

He lunged at me, a blur of unnatural speed, slashing away at my arms with claws that had materialized from nowhere. I tried to hold him back, to reason with him, but he was relentless, a whirlwind of demonic fury.

"See what you did to me!" Lucas shrieked, the words spoken in a guttural, demonic voice that bore no resemblance to my son's.

He lunged again, slashing a huge gash across my arm. The pain was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the agony tearing through my soul. I grabbed him, pinning him to the ground, his small body surprisingly strong, resisting my every move. Blood poured everywhere, a crimson tide washing over us both.

I trembled, not with fear, but with rage, with pain, with a desperate, hopeless love. I stared down at him, at the monstrous parody of my son.

What did they do to my baby boy?

"Lucas, what happened to you?"

He thrashed around, snapping his teeth at me like a rabid animal. His breath, a sickening wave of decay, washed over me.

"You cursed me in this world! I must kill!" He snarled, the voice a distorted echo of the sweet boy I knew. My sweet baby boy, reduced to this monstrous thing.

I watched, paralyzed, as his body began to change. His neck stretched, vertebrae popping with sickening cracks. Bone-chilling snaps and the tearing sound of skin stretching filled the small room. Lucas laughed demonically, a sound that clawed at my sanity. His head was now level with mine, a grotesque parody of my son. I stared into Lucas's eyes, once bright and full of life, now blackened pits of pure evil. My body trembled, not just from fear, but from a profound and agonizing grief.

"See you in hell, father!" He spat, his voice laced with a hatred I couldn't comprehend.

His mouth opened impossibly wide, like a snake unhinging its jaw. Rows of razor-sharp teeth, wet with saliva, lined his gaping maw. He lunged, clamping down on my neck, but instead of ripping my throat out, he applied a slow, agonizing pressure. Tiny holes, like puncture wounds, slowly spilled my blood down my chest.

Lucas kicked me off of him, the force sending me sprawling onto the cold pavement. He crawled over to me, a terrifying predator savoring its kill. He lapped at the blood trickling from my wounds, his twisted face contorted in a grotesque parody of pleasure. He knelt beside me, a demented smile plastered on his face.

"Lucas, please!" I barely managed to choke out the words, my voice raspy with fear and pain.

A wave of pure, unadulterated evil laughter erupted from deep within him. It was a sound that would forever haunt the darkest corners of my mind.

"God, please forgive my son!" I pleaded, the prayer a desperate whisper lost in the growing darkness. "He knows not what he is doing! Accept him in your light and help him find his way!"

He stayed there, watching me die, his eyes burning into me with an unholy intensity. He even reached down on occasion, cupping his hands to gather my blood so he could drink it, rambling on about how delicious I tasted, his words a chilling symphony of depravity.

I began to notice that it was getting harder to breathe, to stay awake. My vision swam, fading in and out. I could feel death coming for me, a cold, creeping embrace. All I could hear was his laughter, that horrifying, distorted echo of the sweet, angelic laughter I remembered.

As darkness finally took over, I suddenly bolted upright, gasping for air.

To Be Continue ...